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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22401688">Try Again The Old Way</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IambicKentameter/pseuds/IambicKentameter'>IambicKentameter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Silicon Valley (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Arranged Marriage AU, Government reinforced arranged marriages, Like so much angst, M/M, if you don't look too closely, it's kinda like the pina colada song</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:49:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22401688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IambicKentameter/pseuds/IambicKentameter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after a mandate is passed, declaring that all future marriages must be arranged by state-of-the-art compatibility systems, Richard is goaded into signing up.</p>
<p>This is how he ends up married to a complete stranger, and also how it's Monica's fault.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Silicon Valley Winter Exchange 2k19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Try Again The Old Way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> His first impression of Jared -standing there at the alter- was that he was tall- much too tall for Richard. He also smiled too wide, and he was at least 45 pounds underweight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granted, that was only from a cursory look. On the second glance, however, he found that Jared had a fine, high brow, gorgeous lips, and brilliant, sparkling sea blue eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately for both of them, with Mandate 14-82 to the marriage laws, they were barred from meeting, much less seeing each other until the day of the wedding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps it was his own pride, his moralistic piety, that made him stubbornly refuse to ever love Jared, even before they’d met. It was the same pride that his friend (co-worker, if you asked her.) Monica mined to the bone until he finally agreed to sign up for his very own compatibility program. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(“I won’t do it, Mon, I don’t believe in arranged marriage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richard, Pied Piper has the most sophisticated compatibility engine ever invented! There is a reason for that. Your genius. Are you really going to tell me you aren’t a genius?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My dumbassery is well documented.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pied Piper won’t fail you, Richard.”)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cursed Monica’s manipulation all through the ceremony, through the small reception, through to their first night together as a married couple.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like a cup of tea, Richard?” Jared asked him the moment they were alone, his first words to him since ‘I do.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was thinking, since we both live in Paolo Alto, but you still have roommates, you could move in with me? My godmother passed a few years ago, and she bequeathed me this gorgeous house near Crescent Park-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine.” Richard cut him off. “Whatever you want, it’s fine. I’m gonna go to bed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Already? I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can stay there.” Richard said flippiantly, retreating into the bedroom section of their hotel suite and slammed the door shut behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>One Year Later:</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every morning, they received two copies of the morning paper. It was archaic, in Richard’s opinion, but Jared claimed to enjoy the tactile nature of physical media, and Richard allowed this without much bitching, as it shortened a conversation considerably </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lowered his newspaper and glanced over the headlines at his husband, who was wrapped up in his own copy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jared must have felt his eyes on him, because he cleared his throat. “Do you know what today is?” He asked, mirth in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“September 19th?” Richard said dully, glancing at the heading of his paper to verify that it was, in fact, the 19th of September.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Do you know what today </span>
  <em>
    <span>means</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard could tell there was something eating him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Is it… your annual bird-watching expedition with Gail?” He guessed aimlessly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, silly!” Jared set his paper aside and leaned forward, reaching for Richard, but not initiating contact. This was something he’d noticed over the last year, Jared never did anything without Richard’s permission or explicit consent. “Richard, in a few hours, we will have been married for an entire year!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In a few hours?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our ceremony started at 11:30, remember?!” He gestured to the clock exuberantly. “A few hours!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard lost himself in Jared’s deep brown doe eyes, if only for a moment. Those eyes had captivated him the first time he’d seen them, standing at the end of the aisle, apparently one year ago today. He was weak for those eyes,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richard?” He asked, gentle eyes turned curious. “Are you alright? You look… dazed. Did you get enough for breakfast?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Richard brushed him off. “Damn. A year, huh? Wild.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought… I thought it would be nice if after work, we could… maybe get a nice dinner? Or maybe, just a drink, anything you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard huffed a sigh and stood, stepping away from the table. He turned away from that piercing gaze, looking for something to look for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jared followed him, cupping his cheek and turning him gently to face him once more. “I haven’t heard your voice in a week, at least. I can barely remember what our last conversation even was. I’m worried about you, Richard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why? Why do you care, Jared?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I’m your husband.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I don’t want you to be.” He hissed, pulling his hand away from his face and standing taller, but not coming close to equalling him in height. “You and I both know that the only reason we’re here is because of the system.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A system </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>created.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, then I filled out the fucking form and now I’m stuck with a stranger for the rest of my life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t have to be strangers.” It was a whispered plea, dripping with desperation. “We could sit down right now and spill our guts, open up to the other and live like a happy couple. Learn about each other.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brushed past Jared without even considering his proposition.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard stomped through their house, the usually pale white walls now more of a stormy- grey, a result of the automatically tinting windows reacting to the rising sun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Up the staircase he went, climbing so quickly he had to stop to regain his breath by the three quarters mark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His study was the destination, as it was each time Jared tried to confront him about any part of their marriage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At first, he’d thought he could really fall in love with Jared. Maybe. They worked in the same field, Jared at Hooli and Richard at Pied Piper, so it was reasonable to hope that they might… actually have something to talk about? But it seemed like the man he brushed his teeth next to every morning didn’t resemble the man he’d specified in the questionnaire by even a shade. He’d specified Helpful, Affectionate, Compassionate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard punched in the code to unlock his study and immediately collapsed on the daybed stored therein. He’d spent the occasional night on it, as well as the majority of his days when he wasn’t at work or being carted around to stupid investor meetings</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard headed for his desk, flicking on his desktop and slipping off his wedding band in one smooth, practised motion. Costume jewelry should never be worn for too long, it’ll turn your fingers blue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the computer booted up, he whipped out his phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He dialed the same number he did every day, and after two rings, an irritated voice answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want, Richard?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just wanted to hear a friendly voice, Monica. If you’re busy, I could always call Laurie. She’s always great for a stimulating conversation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh god, don’t do that.” She groaned, chuckling slightly. “But heaven forbid you should call for something important.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you actually busy?” He asked. “I can call back if you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, a little. We’re holding a gala tomorrow night and I’ve still got a few finishing details to solidify.” He could hear the tell tale sign of Monica’s cigarette tapping against her ash tray. “Some of these assistants keep dodging my fucking calls. As if I’m supposed to be calling them in the first place!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why can’t you fire your assistant if she’s not showing up to work? Or just… move offices. It’s not like she’d notice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Another great idea from the idea man.” She chuckled. “Speaking of. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> that new program you’ve been cooking up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking awful.” He groaned, poking at his touch screen somewhat uselessly. “It keeps stalling out and I’m not sure what the issue is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, fuck if I know. Ask your tech husband. I’m sure he’s good for something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think he’s in biz dev, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Haven’t you been married to this guy for like, a year.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly a year, actually.” He grumbled. “Today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Today?!” Monica groaned loudly. “God, you’re a fucking moron.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, are you doing anything special? Tonight? Maybe tomorrow night…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah, I’m coming to your stupid gala. I’ll invite him. He wants to do something tonight, but… Monica, we don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> each other. It’s been a year of swapping turns on the couch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you could fucking try. I know you don’t buy into the system, but could you like, try? Jared’s hot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bye Monica.” He huffed, hanging up the phone before tossing it back onto his daybed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He woke to the third alarm he’d set, back aching from napping on his day bed one too many times that week. He didn’t bother buttoning his shirt as he strode down the stairs towards the kitchen, hoping to find something in the fridge he could just heat up, hopefully something incorporating a coffee or tea on the side. Something with caffeine. And sugar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have a good nap, dear?” Jared’s voice cut through he haze from behind his newspaper. He put it down so he could look at him; he was still in his work clothes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was fine…” He responded, confused. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I came home early to get ready for our date.” He said, getting up from his chair and starting straight towards the door Richard was still lingering in. “I’m going to have a shower.” He leaned in as he passed, his lips brushing Richard’s casually. “I’ll miss you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was long gone before Richard took another breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d probably been standing there a full eight minutes, his fingers hovering a millimetre away from his still tingling lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His first reaction was that of shock. Jared? Kissed him? It had been a full 365 days since last their lips touched, how could it be so casual now? As if they’d been happily married all this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His second reaction was that of mild disgust. He hadn’t agreed to a date tonight, how dare Jared be so bold as to presume he would-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. That’s it. He huffed and scribbled down a note telling Jared he’d be staying at Monica’s for the night, before darting out the back door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Monica made him help set up, because of course she did. She didn’t seek him out again until about 10 minutes before the party, when she slapped a cheap half-mask on his face, snapping the elastic band around the back of his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a masquerade gala, dumbass.” She snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, these things have to have fucking themes or some shit.” She smoothed out a non existent wrinkle in her floor-length wine coloured gown. “Ugh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s going to be fine, Mon.” He reached out to pat her shoulder as a show of comfort, but decided that would be awkward, and withdrew at the last minute, something that was arguably far more awkward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“People are starting to get here.” She groaned. “Will you go and mingle, please? You’re going to need to rope at least one more investor for a series B. Go. Be the bell of the ball.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But no one will recognise me… with the mask…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s why we have names. Go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shuffled off, mingling with random strangers to varying degrees of success as the party began to kick off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With each new guest,  Richard took a new drink, each one ever so slightly more alcoholic than the last, until Monica came careening over to him, slightly unbalanced in her heels. “Richardddd!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Monica?” He said with a raised brow, politely excusing himself from his current conversation. “What’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That guy that just came through the door? I think he’s with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gavin Belson</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If you could score someone close to Belson, you’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>got </span>
  </em>
  <span>to give him a shot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What makes you think I’d be able to get close to that guy?” He asked, gesturing vaguely in who he presumed was Gavin Belson’s direction, given that he was closest to the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that guy in particular.” She pointed to a tall, lithe fellow off to Gavin’s right. “He’s wearing a fucking cravat, Richard, he’s clearly into all that Ren Faire shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ren Fairs actually tend towards the Late Medieval period, and cravats are early Victorian, so I don’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that, take that can-do attitude over there.” She interrupted, ushering him towards the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard stumbled into him, spilling the remainder of his drink straight onto his bespoke jacket with… oh my god, was that damask? “Oh, oh my god, I’m so sorry, jesus christ-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nothing.” The man answered in a soft tenor, voice smooth and reassuring. “Allow me.” He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at his jacket. “I wouldn’t worry about it, it’s less than a paycheck, so what does it really matter? I’m Ed. Ed Chambers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard shook his offered hand. It was soft, gentle but strong. “Nice to meet you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me get you another drink. On me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s an open bar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever.” Ed said, taking Richard’s elbow and guiding him through the crowded room. “What are you drinking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ch-champagne.” Richard fumbled. There was something exciting to this Ed Chambers guy, he was a conversational bulldozer, that was for sure, but he was… headstrong. Decisive. Driven. There was something about his confidence that drew Richard closer, allowed him to lay a hand over Ed’s, the one on his elbow, huddling closer to him as they moved through the crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, boring.” Ed sneered. “Tonight we drink tequila.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He and Ed shared at least 6 tequila shots between them before Richard found himself </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>being dragged onto the dance floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took Richard’s waist and hand, then spun them around in time with the others. A smile bloomed on Richard’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re… a really good dancer.” Richard muttered, blushing and looking away from Ed’s mask, one adorned with (probably fake) crystals around his eyes. It was incredibly distracting under the lights, and he couldn’t make out much of his face, save for his jawline.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.” The man replied, leading him through another semi-complicated spin. “I’ve loved dancing since I was young.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Uh, me too.” Richard lied. “It’s, uh, hot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know I am.” He said with a wink Richard couldn’t see. “Follow my lead, baby, I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A broad hand on Richard’s back drew him closer, so close their thighs slotted together and the dance became less of a dance and more of a shuffle. “Oh. hey there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re going to ask about the roll of quarters in my pocket, it’s more that I’m happy to see you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gawked at him, but Ed took the liberty of pressing his own open mouth to Richard’s. The latter gave an involuntary noise, sort of a protesting squawk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, baby.” Ed purred, stroking the side of his cheek down to his chin, tilting it up so they could see eye to eye. There was something familiar about those baby blues, something he couldn’t quite place. “Did I surprise you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, sorry, I think I’m just… a bit drunk.” He hiccupped, his body punctuating the sentiment for him. “I think I need to lay down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you come back to mine?” Ed Chambers whispered in his ear, his bottom lip brushing Richard’s earlobe. “You can rest, we’ll netflix and chill while you sober up a bit, and whatever happens from there… well that’s between two consenting adults.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you an escort? That sounds like an escort.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m whatever you want me to be, baby.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This statement was further punctuated by Ed once again kissing Richard, and this time he returned with as much (or as little) passion as he could muster in his state. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could blink, He and Ed Chambers were making out in the back of a chauffeured car, (</span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Richard’s addled brain thought.) Ed’d hands worming their way down to Richard’s ass, kneading and dragging him into his lap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They almost fell out of the long seat when the car came to a stop in an overly familiar driveway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wh…?” Richard mumbled when he finally looked up. “I thought we were going to your place?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We are.” Ed grinned up at him, but his cocky smile wavered slightly. “You wanna come up for a night cap?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard tore the bejeweled mask from Ed’s face; his husband smiled up at him in lieu of a tall handsome stranger. “Jared?! What the fuck are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could ask the same of you, Richard.” He stared up at his husband, who was still perched on his lap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not the one pretending to be someone else!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you knew it was me!” Jared protested weakly. “Would you really have gone home with a stranger? Just to spite me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard fell off of him, scrambling away quickly. “Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> pretend we have a happy marriage, Jared. We’re basically roommates! I can’t cheat on a roommate!” He stumbled out of the car, righting himself before throwing his own cheap plastic mask into the dirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you admit it’s cheating.” Jared said softly, following him out. “Richard, I’m sorry I deceived you, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to fucking hear it!” He was already most of the way up the drive, pulling out his keys with shaking hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could only fumble for so long before Jared’s hands came to clasp his, warm chest crowded up against Richard’s back. “You felt it. Please don’t lie to me, Richard. Don’t lie to yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t mean we magically have a perfect marriage.” Richard seethed. “We kissed. You pretended to be a stranger. We danced. I went home with you. That doesn’t fix </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jared.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But it gives us something to build towards, doesn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By this point, Richard had found his key and was fervently throwing the door open. “I’ll be in my office.” He announced to the foyer, before darting up the stairs two at a time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard hovered outside the master bedroom, stock still and thinking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened the door slowly, trying to be quiet but failing miserably. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jared?” His voice echoed into the darkness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richard?” He rubbed his eyes tiredly, shading his eyes against the light spilling in from the hallway. “What are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… It…” Really there was only one reason that he’d left his couch in the study where he’d been spending the majority of his nights for the last year. “It’s cold in the study.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A lamp by the nightstand flickered to life, and he saw his figure in full, motioning him to come into bed. He shuffled over to the king sized bed and climbed under the sheets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jared drew them up around him, then curled in close, holding him to his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus Richard, you’re freezing.” Jared said, rubbing his chest absently. “We can’t have you catching a cold now, can we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently, Richard’s silence gave Jared permission to press his warm lips to his forehead and wound his toasty hands around his icy fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Compassionate</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The word resonated in his mind, and Richard struggled to remember where it had come from. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The form. The registration form you filled out in order to find a partner.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t hate you.” Richard whispered into the darkness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d hoped you’d say that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Was Jared compassionate? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>… </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yep</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I pretended to be someone else.” Jared said softly. “I had no idea you were going to be there, so I thought… Ed Chambers is the version of me that’s good with people my own age, other businessmen in particular. He’s a total cad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jared, I like the guy I saw tonight. I mean, he was a bit… much, but he was spontaneous. He took charge.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can do that, if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like we’ve been tiptoeing around each other for so long, and it’s my fault.” Richard swallowed audibly. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“New year.” Jared pressed a small kiss to their joined hands. “New opportunities.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard’s mouth was moving before his brain could catch up. “Do you want to go somewhere tomorrow?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” He raised a single eyebrow, the corner of his lips quirking up. “Like where?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like… out to coffee? Let’s start from the beginning. Like in the old days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought those marriages had like an 80% divorce rate?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We already tried it the new way.” Richard curled in close, tucking his head under Jared’s chin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coffee in the morning, then. My treat.” Jared whispered, turning off the light and laying one last kiss to Richard’s curls.</span>
</p>
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